Short Trip

The heart I have was molded
by gracious fingers and blessed.
I have not but my memories
that I possess under duress.

Hit that buzz abundant trip
kiss this miss me little lips
I try lie to do you feel trips
into where the horizon fits.

I’ll die into the thigh of night
ribs broken in bruises delight
where the black crows fight
I’ll shine in wine so bright.

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